


Always

by coveredbyroses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mentions of Infertility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 06:59:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17038964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: Set during episode 1x03, Dead in the Water. While Dean talks to Lucas, you struggle with what will never be.





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okay. So some of you may know that I had to have a total hysterectomy when I was in my 20′s due to severe endometriosis and a uterine fibroid tumor. I’m mostly okay with it now, the pain is gone and my quality of life has greatly improved, but I still grieve the loss. This is my way of dealing with it.

It’s a beautiful day to be at the park. Your eyes dance around at the busyness of it; there’s a group of boys playing tag, laughing as they zig zag after one another. A father plays catch with his son, a mother pushes a pink stroller down the active sidewalk.

Sam and Andrea converse softly next to you. You’re not really listening, they’re no doubt discussing the disappearances. Or maybe the lone, mute boy Dean is currently walking toward.

Andrea had said her son, Lucas had stopped talking after his father’s death, and you don’t wonder—you’d been in a similar situation once upon a time.

However, Lucas may very well hold the key to solving this case, or at least provide the clues you need, so Dean has taken it upon himself to get through to him, to penetrate the invisible shield the child had built to protect himself.

You smile as you watch Dean pick up the tiny green soldier, can just imagine a scenorio similar to this one, years ago. With Sam.

He’s coloring now, his thighs serving as a desk as he guides the crayon over the colored construction paper. Your chest clenches as you wonder what he’s drawing. Is it a car, airplane…maybe a family portrait?

Dean doesn’t think so, but he’d make an extraordinary father. You’d told him so once, but he’d laughed it off, said that kind of life wasn’t meant for him, that you and Sam were his family.

But you know better, you’ve seen the light that flashes in his eyes whenever he sees a kid, how he goes silent and just watches. Like he longs for the innocence, someone to be goofy with—since he never got to be a kid himself.

You’re just counting down the days until he’s finished, until he decides he wants out of the life. He still has time, he’s only twenty-six. After all, Sam got out once, why can’t he? And once he finds John…

If—and when—Dean gets out, he’ll want a family of his own, he’ll want the chance to be what his own father wasn’t.

And you can’t give that to him.

You’ll never know the joy of carrying life inside you, you’ll never know the excruciating, yet fulfilling pain of giving birth. You’ll never look at a child and see your own eyes looking back at you.

Dean knows all of this, of course. He knows all about the emergency hysterectomy because he’s the one that had rushed you to the hopsital when you’d lost too much blood.

He’s the one that had held your hand so tight when the doctor had shown you the ultrasound, explaining in layman’s terms the large tumor growing inside your uterus.

It hadn’t been cancer, thank God, but the mass of tissue had stolen part of your identity; had stolen piece of your femininity.

Dean had tried to comfort you in the only way the hunter knew, joke through the pain—‘ _Think of all the money we’ll save on condoms now_.’ And you’d laughed, because really, what else could you do?

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the first hot tear trickle down your cheek. You quickly brush it away with a quick swipe of your hand, throwing a quick glance to your left to make sure it had gone unnoticed by the pair still chatting quietly on the bench next to you.

Dean’s walking back now, alone. The three of you rise to meet him, but his eyes are on yours. You suck in a panicked breath; he knows you, always has been able to see right through to your soul.

“You okay?” he asks, forehead dented in concern.

“Yeah,” you breathe, forcing your smile to reach your eyes, to dam down the tears.

“Always.”


End file.
